


Carpet Cleaning

by sunshineandeyebrows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Erica being uncharacteristically sweet, Lydia being awesome, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Witch!Stiles, alpha!Derek, derek kinda almost dies so, somewhere after 2s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:46:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineandeyebrows/pseuds/sunshineandeyebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sighed again and somehow rolled Derek onto the bed, heading to the bathroom for his first-aid kit.<br/>“Why is it that always when I want to just sleep and die, someone else is seriously dying and bleeding out on my bed,” he grumbled, because who would forbid him, bandaging Derek’s wound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpet Cleaning

Stiles tumbled into his room, throwing everything he had been holding on the floor. There went his all lacrosse equipment, his backpack full of heavy mythological and fantasy tomes, and another two books which wouldn’t fit into the backpack. Stiles sighed long-sufferingly. He was dead-tired. Okay, maybe the books were his own fault, but dragging all of that home wasn’t exactly the best part of his life. He had the right to grumble a little. Especially so, if he had to drag it on foot, because his jeep just wouldn’t move. The training was hard enough, he never expected his baby girl to be stubborn enough to stay on school’s parking lot and not carry him home, at that. Scott wasn’t able to give him a ride home, too. He had promised Allison to pick her up right after training. It was dark already. Stiles winced, but then he saw his bed and practically sunk to the floor with relief.

“Hi,” he said to his bed. “Can I just crawl into you and die?” he did just that, which in his case meant falling without any coordination whatsoever on his bed, face first.

What he didn’t expect was an answer.

“What?” came confused voice from the window.

“Gah!” Stiles jumped and turned his head in a movement that was an inch away from snapping his neck. He was proud of himself for not letting out any strange sounds, like, for example, high-pitched, girl’s squeak. He calmed down remotely, seeing familiar eyebrows. “Derek. Of course it’s you. Hi, Derek,” he said squashing his face back into the pillow. “I was talking to my bed,” he explained in muffled voice, without really knowing if Derek needed that information. Just to say something. “God, why won’t you at least once leave me alone to die in peace?” he whined.

This time he didn’t get an answer, although he was expecting it. Life was screwed up like that. He heard a thud though. Like something just fell to the floor. Or someone.

Stiles frantically shot up from the bed. Predictably enough Derek was lying next to it, with blood on his torn t-shirt and unconscious. Stiles was by his side in a second, checking if there were any wounds left in something that could be called a start of panic. Derek wasn’t really hurt, except for one, big, ugly cut running across his chest, from his ribs down to his hip, and Stiles winced internally, thinking about blood stains on fluffy carpets and their cleaning. Derek’s breathing was shallow and fast, his face a sick, greyish color.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, more to calm himself down a bit than actually complaining. He hasn’t seen Derek in a condition that bad since that one time when some foreign hunters, who apparently didn’t give a shit about a code or whatever, shot him with a freaky wolfsbane-with-something bullet and it took two days to find a bullet which could burn out the previous one.

Stiles sighed again and somehow rolled Derek onto the bed, heading to the bathroom for his first-aid kit.

“Why is it that always when I want to just sleep and die, someone else is seriously dying and bleeding out on my bed,” he grumbled, because who would forbid him, bandaging Derek’s wound.

There wasn’t any sign of wolfsbane and Stiles decided his life is completely fucked up, if that means bad news. But it was bad news. With wolfsbane he would at least know what has to be done. Now, it was another mystery and Stiles couldn’t do anything about it.

He wanted to call Scott, but remembered Scott is out of town with Allison on their romantic weekend or something like that. Scott wouldn’t know what was wrong with Derek anyway, besides Stiles didn’t want to interrupt them. So he called Isaac instead. 

“Derek? Haven’t seen him today, he said something about needing a moment of peace and quiet, so we left him alone. Why? Something happened?”

“So Erica or Boyd haven’t been with him either today?” Stiles asked, averting the question, because if Isaac had no idea what was going on, Stiles didn’t want to upset him. No one liked seeing Isaac’s big blue eyes sad.

“Yeah, he was alone. Stiles?” Isaac could probably hear his voice isn’t completely natural or suspected something anyway, he wouldn’t normally call and ask about Derek without a reason, after all.

“No, everything’s fine, just that he said something about training and isn’t picking up. Don’t ya worry, nothing serious, he probably really needed to have a moment to himself, I don’t think he has time to properly take care of himself, if you know what I mean,” Stiles lied quickly, thanking all gods that ever existed that his heartbeat can’t be heard over the phone, and heard Isaac snort.

“I know too well, man. Now I’m picturing Derek doing it and it’s seriously creepy, so I’m just gonna hung up now. See ya!”

Stiles didn’t manage to answer, because he was picturing it, too, with a tiny difference – it wasn’t creepy for him at all. Rather incredibly hot. All this werewolf shit has probably damaged his brain. He called Lydia then, but she didn’t know anything either, getting pretty pissed instead about his call interrupting her make-out session with some hot stranger at a party. Stiles sighed for probably a hundredth time today and called Deaton. 

They got pretty close, when Stiles discovered his magic – the thing that was helping him survive during all those supernatural years and was totally cool, because finally he could be good at something and that something was casting spells and figuring out curses and hexes and countering them. Deaton had said that Stiles had just a power to believe at the beginning and that was what ignited some spark inside of him, revealing the magic.

Deaton was a kind of his mentor, a magical-stuff Yoda, and Stiles managed to learn a lot during this few months.

As it turned out, Deaton was out of town and would be able to return only the next day. Stiles whined painfully.

“I need to know how it looks like, you know I am not be able to do anything without the image right in front of me,” Deaton said, worry coloring his voice a little. “You can do this, Stiles, you practiced really hard. I have to go now, but before that, repeat what I always tell you.”

“You have to believe for it to happen,” Stiles recited, glancing at Derek.

“Exactly! Believe and the rest will come itself. You’re going to be fine. Call me afterwards.”

Like it was going to be this easy. Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest, soothing circles into his skin absently. Like it took just belief and ‘You’re going to be fine’ to actually know what’s– 

“A cursed object,” Stiles said suddenly.

Huh. So maybe it was that easy. He eyed his fingers practically touching Derek’s heart through skin and muscle. He could feel slow, but even pulsing rhythm underneath them. His thoughts abruptly came back to the day about three months ago, when Deaton had told him that he has to draw energy from the nature elements to be able to cast even simplest spell, and that the source of life worked as good as the moon, water or fire. He naturally assumed that heart was the thing Deaton had been talking about.

Suddenly Derek’s heartbeat quickened slightly and Stiles dragged his mesmerized gaze from his hand to Derek’s face. Derek’s eyes were looking at him, fogged with pain and normal in this kind of situations disorientation. 

“A witch,” he said dryly through chapped and awfully livid lips.

“Okay,” Stiles said, even though Derek has already passed out again.

A witch and a cursed object. That was a beginning. Now Stiles just had to find out what cursed object a witch would use. Then he remembered that any object could be cursed by a witch to use. That left him with ‘something with a blade’. It wasn’t good enough, Stiles decided. He couldn’t do much with that.

He took a calming breath and proceeded to flip through his books, anyway. Two minutes later, when he was focusing on keeping his panic at bay and trying to find anything useful, he felt something’s not right. It was just a feeling, but very familiar and now his senses were sharpened, with his exhaustion and Derek’s dying, besides he learned to trust his guts, so he stopped doing anything and looked up, listening. 

He flinched anyway when his window creaked, but felt some twisted mix of anger, relief and surprise, when he saw Isaac hopping gracefully on his bedroom’s floor. Erica and Boyd were right behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, automatically covering the sight of Derek with his own body.

“We knew something was wrong with him today from the beginning,” Isaac said, getting closer and sniffing the air. “After your call I knew for sure that something’s wrong.”

“We have a connection with him, dumbass,” Erica added, sitting next to Stiles on the bed. “You can’t lie to us about these things.”

Boyd didn’t say anything, but then again, no one really expected him to. It was Boyd, after all. Besides he looked like he was sick after seeing Derek, so they all left him alone.

Stiles rubbed his face tiredly.

“It was a witch,” he said, going back to the book he had abandoned earlier. “She cut him with some cursed object, I have no idea what it might have been.”

“Isn’t there something about it in those books?” Isaac asked, picking one up.

“We’re not going to find it,” Stiles said. There must’ve been something odd about his voice or smell, because all three of them looked at him with clear distress. “She could’ve made the object herself from some bones or other shit and then curse it, so it’s unlikely that it’s going to be in those books.”

He noticed suddenly that they all are in a really close range to Derek. He felt a little warm inside, despite this whole situation. It was just so nice to see them wanting to comfort their alpha, even by their presence alone. Their eyes were wider with dread now.

“Don’t look at me like that, he’s going to be fine. We’ll save him,” Stiles said reassuringly. He knew they would check his heart and be able to calm down if he isn’t lying to them. “You just need to help me find a spell that’ll let me see what happened with the witch.”

“You can do that?” Erica asked, careful not to let her voice tremble even a bit, Stiles could tell.

“Yes,” he said with confidence he didn’t really feel. It wasn’t a lie though, and that counted.

They spent a stressful half an hour, digging through all the books Stiles had in his home, getting really restless and panicky at the end, but then Stiles found it. The spell was called ‘The Touch’ and Stiles didn’t have to mess with Derek’s mind, which he was silently the most frightened of. He just had to mess with his body and feel what happened by getting access to Derek’s body’s memory. What could possibly go wrong?

Stiles gulped and got up. 

“Okay, I found it,” he announced and all three werewolves looked up at him, leaving the books aside. “Isaac, go and bring every candle you can possibly find in the house, Erica, help him. Boyd, get me a bowl of water. I’ll find the ingredients.”

It surprised him that they just shot up from the floor to do exactly what he said. It was a good feeling, to be able to be that influential, even during a mess like this.

When he got back with herbs and a special ointment, Isaac and Erica were sitting on either side of Derek and soothing his pain. Erica wore a little painful, but concentrated expression, Isaac’s face gave off just worry. All the candles were lit and a bowl with water stood on the floor and Stiles could feel the energy piling up in the room already.

“Where’s Boyd?” Stiles asked, getting to squishing the herbs with the ointment in a marble bowl.

“I sent him to the bathroom, he’s not good with taking away pain yet. Plus, the smell,” Isaac said, frowning a bit.

Stiles could feel it only now, as he walked in. Beside the aroma of wax from scentless candles and the herbs, there was something else, something a lot worse.

“Did anyone call Lydia?” Stiles asked, not looking at them.

“No, why?” Erica seemed really off. It was kind of weird seeing her this worried.

“Good,” Stiles said and that was all he managed, because he heard knocking.

He had a bad feeling about this, but came quickly downstairs and answered the front door.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lydia asked, with quite a dose of fury. Stiles winced. “What the hell is wrong at all, because clearly you wouldn’t call me asking about Derek and interrupting me, if something wasn’t wrong.”

Stiles eyed her warily, squinting. He didn’t answer right away.

“Stiles? Hello? What’s going on, is someone hurt?” Lydia waved a hand in front of his face.

“You’re not here because of your power?” Stiles asked, half incredulously, half hopefully.

Lydia frowned in confusion, but then a knowing smirk appeared on her face.

“You didn’t tell me what’s wrong, so you could know if someone’s dying. Because if they were, I would be here,” she said, nodding slowly. “Clever.”

“So that means he’s not dying yet, right?” Stiles asked, letting her in. “Right?”

“No. But that means he’s pretty hurt, doesn’t it?”

Stiles averted his gaze, walking into the room.

“Oh my god, what is this smell?” Lydia scrunched her face, looking around.

“Rotting flesh,” Isaac said, face blank.

Stiles shut his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths.

“Okay, leave him for now,” he said, sitting on the bed.

Erica growled at him a little as he moved her gently further away from Derek, but Stiles just looked at her calmly until she realized what she’s doing. She even had the decency to look guilty for a short while. Isaac hugged her, not letting Derek out of his sight. Lydia was looking at Derek with a disbelieving and dreadful expression.

Stiles dipped his hand in the mixture of herbs and ointment and placed it on Derek’s wound. He had the other hand in the bowl of water standing next to him.

“I need you to hold him as hard as you can and not let go no matter what,” he said, voice calm and steady. Emotionless. He was able to relax and believe now, with all the elements surrounding him. Even the moon was shining right on him through the window. Not full, but it sufficed.

Isaac and Erica glanced at him warily, but obeyed. And then there came probably the worst five minutes in Stiles’ life. And that including all the supernatural shit he has experienced. Derek was tossing and shoving and throwing on the bed, his eyes flashing, claws sharpening and fangs snapping. It was hard to look at him and hear his painful howling. Boyd had to endure his own problems and help, because it took three of them to hold Derek remotely in place.

Stiles had to concentrate during that and not let Derek’s pain get to him. He had to believe it’s going to work. It was a tough spell, took a lot of energy and his fatigue wasn’t helping. He needed two tries to be able to see what happened. Well, technically not see, but feel. It was like the wound was his and Derek’s pain was his, like he had been there instead of Derek. He could feel all that and with that he was able to tell what it was that hurt Derek.

“Coyote’s bone covered with a toad’s blood,” he said, taking his hand off Derek’s chest. He looked up to meet four pairs of concerned eyes. He felt a bit dizzy. “It has to be in one of those books,” he added and the rest practically threw themselves onto the tomes. “Look for curses, cursed objects and animal bones.”

After hasty twenty minutes, Isaac shot up.

“I got it!” he said agitatedly and handed the book to Stiles. “Here.”

Stiles read the page. It took all of two seconds for him to still with realization. They were looking at him in a tense silence.

“Oh god,” Erica said. “It’s bad, isn’t it.”

Stiles looked her directly in the eye.

“I won’t be able to brake the curse,” he said, voice barely steady.

“What?” Boyd almost yelled.

“I’m going to need the object itself to brake the curse.”

“Like, you have to have it with you?” Isaac asked. There was an edge to his voice and Stiles knew what Isaac was thinking before he managed to say it. “Then we’re going to get it.”

Stiles stared at him for a moment. The room was suddenly full of determination. He glanced at Derek. Then clenched his teeth.

“Alright,” he said, getting up. “Let’s go.”

Lydia stopped him before he reached the door.

“You’re staying,” she said, voice sure and powerful.

“What?! No! I’m going! You can’t face a witch without me– !”

“Stiles,” Erica said. “You can’t go.”

“Why the hell not?!” he suddenly felt dizzy again, this time a bit more, but ignored it completely.

Isaac grabbed his arm, spinning him around. He reached out and touched the skin under his nose. When he withdrew his hand, there was blood on it. Stiles absently touched the same place and looked at his fingers colored with red.

“That spell was too much,” Isaac said. “You have to rest.”

“No, I have to…” suddenly he didn’t remember what had been so important just a second ago. The dizziness overwhelmed him this time.

Isaac helped him sit on the bed and forced him to lie down next to Derek.

“Call Deaton!” Stiles remembered. “I’ve to call Deaton… and Derek… Where is Derek? Somethin’ was wrong with D’rek… I’ve to…”

“It’s fine, Stiles, we’ll take care of it,” Isaac said calmingly. 

Stiles frowned in confusion. Isaac was rarely this nice to him. He liked Isaac though. Isaac was all curls and big blue eyes. Who wouldn’t like Isaac. He could be a dick if he wanted to, sure, but Stiles liked him anyway. And Derek. Stiles liked Derek very much, even though he was a bigger dick than Isaac. Stiles looked drowsily at Derek lying next to him and his hand reached out on its own, finding Derek’s fingers. They were cold. They shouldn’t be cold, Stiles thought absently, Derek was a werewolf, after all. He should be hot all the time. Stiles blacked out after that.

*** 

Two minutes later, or so he thought anyway, someone shook him violently. He was wrapped in something warm and he didn’t want to move.  
“Stiles!” he opened his eyes slowly to see Derek’s collarbone.

Then he realized whose voice it was that tried to wake him up. He sat up abruptly. It was dawning, he noticed absently, looking at Scott wide-eyed.

“Derek! The curse,” he blurted out. “What happened?”

Scott eyed him seriously as if he was making sure Stiles is fully paying attention.

“You have to do it fast,” he said slowly, putting emphasis on every word. “Here,” he handed him something wrapped in a dirty, bloodied cloth. 

There was something in Scott’s eyes that put Stiles immediately on alert. He took the object carefully.

“Scott. What happened?” he asked agitatedly, but steadily.

Scott glanced at Derek, then at the thing in Stiles’ hand.

“Isaac,” Scott said. Stiles waited for the rest in distress. “He’s hurt.”

Stiles felt shivers of dread, a mix of cold and hot traveling under his skin. He automatically, kind of robotically got off the bed and picked up the book which had the counter spell in it. That was the easiest part of it all, he could do it. 

“Light the candles,” he said to Scott, because his concerned gaze was disturbing.

The door creaked and Stiles looked up. 

“I’ll help,” Erica said. She looked worn out, her clothes were a mess and she limped a little. There was a cut along her leg.

Stiles didn’t say anything. Scott nodded shortly. 

When the candles were lit, Stiles focused and casted the spell. He felt this weird sense of something pulling and twisting inside of him. It’s working, he thought, smiling slightly. That was his last thought. He felt a pull again, just this time it was a pull down, into darkness.

When he woke up next time, it was even warmer and somehow safer. He opened his eyes, having a sort of déjà vu as he saw Derek’s neck and collarbone. This time it was a little different though. Maybe it had something to do with Derek’s skin being warm and pleasant or his heart beating slowly and steady instead of rapidly and without coordination. Or the nice smell.

Stiles snuggled, grumbling softly under his breath. He heard a huff that could have been a sign of irritation as well as amusement. On Derek’s part it was usually the first one, but this time Stiles was surprisingly leaning towards the latter. He looked up, right into hazel eyes that were uncharacteristically warm. And shot up at once, realizing what he’s doing, lying in his bed and casually cuddling with Derek Hale.

“I– Derek– What the– Wait! You’re okay!” he exclaimed without any order whatsoever. “Does that mean I did it? Oh my god! It totally does! I did it! Fuck yeah! I’m awesome!”

Derek smiled softly. Stiles stared. He didn’t know Derek was even capable of such a smile. It took him three seconds to notice the importance of the silent curl of Derek’s lips.

“You’re not denying it,” he said incredulously. “Oh my god, Derek Hale is not denying that I’m awesome! It must be a miracle day today!”

Derek raised his eyebrows in something that Stiles was really familiar with, which was his I-can’t-believe-you’re-so-dumb face. But there was more amusement and fondness in it than usually. Stiles eyed him more thoroughly this time. He noticed tiredness on his face, but his eyes were heavy with sleep yet, and there wasn’t a trace of that horrible greyness on his skin, and his hair was a cute morning mess and he was all relaxed and warm and so open. Stiles thought Derek looked simply… adorable. And instantly slapped himself mentally, getting all red.

Derek frowned.

“Stop that,” he said. “You smell weird.”

“Well, excuse you,” Stiles said. “I haven’t had a shower in two days thanks to you and your bleeding out on my carpet incident, so it’s totally not my fault.”

“Not that,” Derek said, sniffing the air dangerously close to Stiles’ neck. “You smell like… like you just saw a baby or a kitten or something.”

Stiles contemplated that for a while. There was something surprisingly right about that. Derek’s frown deepened.

“I said, stop it,” he growled and stood up, stretching. 

His neck was a little pink, Stiles noticed, smiling to himself.Then he just stared at Derek’s bare back and the muscles and he forgot all about the cuteness.

“Good, now it’s more normal,” Derek said, not looking at him. His neck was a little bit more pink than a second ago.

Stiles felt his breath hitch. Derek glanced at him sharply, but then just shook his head and got out of the room. Stiles pouted a little, but realized there’s no one there to see it, so he just shrugged and followed Derek. 

Isaac was sleeping on the couch in his torn and bloodied clothes. Stiles felt a tinge of twisted feeling in his gut, which was weird, because none of this was his fault and he did everything he could to help. Erica was sitting on the floor with head in her hands on the couch next to Isaac. Stiles knew she’s sleeping too. Boyd was napping in Stiles’ Dad’s chair, close to Isaac’s head. Lydia, Scott, Allison, Deaton and Derek were in the kitchen. Stiles noticed, a little late, that it’s already afternoon.

“Hey,” Allison sent him a warm look. “How do you feel?”

“All good, thanks,” he grinned back. “But, you know, it’s Derek who was dying in my bed all night, so I think you should be asking him.”

“I’m fine,” Derek grumbled, like it offended him, but it was Derek, so. “You should wipe your nose and stop talking bullshit.”

Stiles touched the skin under his nose. There was dry, crumbled and darkened blood on his fingers.

“Okay,” he said and headed to the bathroom, catching Deaton’s gaze before that, which Stiles couldn’t help thinking was full of pride. Stiles felt a little warm inside at that.

He looked at himself through the mirror after cleaning his face. He looked horrible, like he haven’t slept for days, no wonder Allison asked how he was feeling. He knew it will pass with a few more hours of sleep and maybe something he had called “fueling” when Deaton had told him about refilling his magic with a thing as simple as surrounding himself with nature elements. 

He suddenly saw Derek behind him.

“What’s up?” he asked, toweling his face and hands.

“I just– I wanted to– ” Derek frowned in confusion or maybe wonder, with visual difficulty.

“It’s fine, buddy,” Stiles generously freed him from the pressure and uncomfortableness. “Your gratitude has been officially accepted. Besides it’s going to be your turn for saving my life next, probably, looking at how screwed up our life actually is, so you’re definitely gonna return the favor, don’t ya worry,” Stiles turned around to face Derek, smiling.

Half a second later he was pressed against the sink with Derek’s lips on his lips. He imagined a steam coming out of his ears and his face going completely red from bottom to top, like it was often happening in cartoons. That was pretty stupid, but his brain was completely incapable of comprehending the situation and apparently had to deal with it in a different way. Because Derek Hale was kissing him. 

It was pretty rough and kind of desperate and Stiles didn’t have much choice apart from just melting into it, because he couldn’t speak or do pretty much anything else that could embarrass him and turn this awesome situation into an awkward one. 

Derek groaned deeply when Stiles reacted, awkwardly as he was a beginner at this, but apparently his enthusiasm sufficed, because it was the best sound he has heard, like, ever.  
It wasn’t gentle at all. Warm – yes, hot even, full of biting and sucking and licking, as if they were eating each other’s mouths. But not gentle. And Stiles, god help him, loved it. Not only that, he pictured it just like this. Often. Probably too often. But who would forbid him.

After a few long, incredibly amazing minutes he had to break the kiss, though. Having normal human lungs instead of werewolf ones really sucked. So he just stood there, clutching the edge of the sink for dear life and breathing hard, staring at Derek in bewilderment. 

“Wha– What– I– oh my god– What just happened?” he stuttered, stunned.

Derek was looking at his mouth. Then he flicked his gaze up to meet Stiles’. He frowned and pulled away a little. Stiles felt a hard to understand tinge of disappointment at that, as if he was just losing something really important and couldn’t do anything about it.

“I just– ” Derek said and frowned, backing away even more. “I thought that you also– you always smell so– if I was wrong, then it’s not– ”

“Derek,” Stiles said, dragging Derek’s gaze back to meet his own. “Words. Use them,” Derek frowned even deeper and looked away again. “Fine, then don’t,” Stiles sighed and pulled Derek back closer by grabbing the loops in his jeans. “I know what you mean anyway. But reference for the future – you should really try talking to people if you want them to get something, you know? And yes, you were right, I also.”

Derek looked oddly surprised.

“Really?” he asked and Stiles felt a sudden delight at the hope in his voice.

“Yeah, really,” Stiles grinned widely. “How do I smell?”

“What?” Derek seemed to have forgotten about what he said earlier. 

“You said I always smell. How?”

Derek looked embarrassed now and completely uncomfortable.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, but Stiles was staring at him.

“Of course it matters, dude, you just told me I smell, I wanna know how and if it’s weird, ’coz maybe I will be able to do something about it. If it bothers you, I mean, ‘coz it could, I could smell really bad, but Scott never told me anything like that, so I don’t know anymore. That’s why you should tell me, so I could maybe shower more or something to get rid of it and all– ”

“No!” Derek said suddenly and immediately shut up, realizing what he just did.

Stiles blinked at him. 

“What?” 

“Don’t, um, don’t do anything about it. It’s not– it’s not a bad thing, it’s just that you always smell… aroused around me.”

The silence fell on them like a heavy rock. Stiles gaped. And then went bright red.

“Oh my god,” he said. “I can’t believe it. Do you think there is some spell that I could use to kill myself right now? Because I want to die. Possibly painlessly and really, really quickly.”

“You can’t die,” Derek said, placing his hands on Stiles’ hips.

“Aww! Because I’m totally badass and awesome and you like me that much, despite the fact that I’m awkward as fuck?” Stiles cooed, trying not to think about their bodies lined up together perfectly.

“No,” Derek said and Stiles pouted. “Who would be saving my life if you were dead?”

“Right, there is that,” Stiles agreed. “Now, let’s get back to the good stuff?” he added, leaning in with a smirk.

Derek easily captured his lips and angled his chin to get a better access. It was slower this time, more affectionate, with actual feelings. Until it wasn’t and they got to the point of biting and sucking again, just this time the feelings were still there. After a while Derek naturally proceeded to mouth at Stiles’ jaw and when he got to the neck, Stiles couldn’t help a shameless moan.

He felt a finger on his lips.

“Shush, they’ll hear us,” Derek said straight into the skin under Stiles’ chin.

“Don’t shush me,” Stiles mumbled around the finger. “They probably know already,” he added, opening his lips to suck Derek’s finger into his mouth.

Derek hissed and left his neck alone to look at him sharply, heatedly. Stiles smirked and curled his tongue around the finger, getting a deep, throaty groan in exchange.

“Stiles,” Derek huffed. “We need to stop.”

Stiles locked their gazes and Derek’s eyes flashed red for a second. He looked… like a predator that he was.

“Okay,” Stiles let Derek’s finger slip out of his mouth with a quiet pop. “You look weird. Stop it.”

Derek shook his head like a puppy fresh out of a bath.

“Derek?” Stiles said carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“…What’s not wrong?” Derek asked after a moment of silence. “You’re not like me, you’re innocent, we can’t– I can’t control myself around you.”

“Ah, shit,” Stiles sighed. “I knew it’ll come to that. Okay, listen. I don’t know if you remember, but I killed someone. Sure, I didn’t have a choice, it wasn’t my fault, bla bla bla, but it doesn’t change the fact that I killed a living being,” he came back to that night for a moment and remembered the vampire’s blood on his hands, Scott barely breathing behind him and Derek covered in cuts. “I’m not innocent. And as for the second part, you don’t have to control yourself, dammit!” 

Derek frowned. Stiles sighed again.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like I ask you to control yourself. On the contrary, actually, please don’t control yourself. They’ll go the second they hear us, so it’s fine.”

“You don’t understand,” Derek shook his head again. “You’re here and you’re not scared or annoying, you’re just you and you smell good and right now I just feel so hungry.”

“O-kay…” Stiles said, furrowing one eyebrow. “You mean hungry for a bite of sandwich or hungry for a bite of fragile, innocent human?”

Derek wondered for a bit.

“I guess both,” he said. “It’s no good, I can’t jump you just like that, we have to stop.”

Stiles felt a mix of irritation and relief. 

“Oh my god! How many times?! Yes, you can! I thought your instinct to hunt kicked in or something, not that you just wanted to jump me! You’re an idiot.”

“That’s true!” came from downstairs loud enough for Stiles to hear it. “We’re gonna go now, have fun!” it was Scott’s voice, a little panicked, but that was completely understandable considering he definitely didn’t want to stay and hear them.

Stiles thought he heard something like a loud huffed finally! in Lydia’s voice. He grinned.

“See? All good. My Dad will be back tomorrow afternoon, ‘coz he’s on some business trip in the neighbor county, so we have all night ’n’ day to ourselves! Awesome, huh?”  
But Derek was already sucking on his neck and letting out something suspiciously close to a purr. Stiles kind of wanted to light the candles in his room, but they didn’t have time to even reach the bed, so he dealt, taking care of Derek’s body instead. Who knew Derek had a thing for his fingers? Screw that, who knew Derek had a thing for him? It was a nice surprise, Stiles thought, scratching Derek’s back absently. Nicer than the almost bleeding to death on his bright carpet, anyway.

~~~


End file.
